


Moment in Time

by Lookafterlou1234



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Poetry, The one where Dean is looking for a fresh start, and Cas is too, and somehow they find each other along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lookafterlou1234/pseuds/Lookafterlou1234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One moment. One single moment can change your life forever. Maybe it was planned. Maybe it was unexpected. But still that moment happens, one way or another. What if your moment happened by mistake? Some twist occurred and you ended up somewhere you never planned, but you wouldn't change it for the world? </p><p>Dean Winchester is a motorcyclist one first prize away from making it big.  Castiel Novak is a poet with big, haunted eyes and a past none of his words can ever begin to describe. And maybe their moments are the same. But can that moment last a lifetime?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moment in Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there everybody! So, I've had this idea stuck in the back of my head for awhile, and I'm acting on it now. This is my first Destiel fic ever, so forgive any OOC please :3

 

 **Chapter One** : _"When I saw you, I fell in love and you smiled because you knew."- Arrigo Boito_

Today was the day. Today was the day that everything changed. Dean  could feel it already. He blinked away, looking up at the ceiling of his tiny bedroom. He jumped out of bed, a wide smile across his face. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling the muscles of his back pop.

"Biggest race of the season today." he said to the air, his voice loud compared to the silence of the room. "And guess who's gonna win?"

A loud meow came from underneath the bed and a orange cat popped out, looking up at Dean with its eyes narrowed.

"That's right Duke, I'm gonna win!" Dean continued, pointing at the animal. Duke pushed past Dean, winding himself around the owner's ankles. He butted his head against him, meowing for food. Dean leaned down and absentmindedly scratched behind the cat's ears.

"Yes, I know you're hungry. I'm getting there, don't you worry."

Over the next few minutes, Dean got dressed and then clopped down the small staircase of his apartment into the even smaller kitchen. He set out some cat food and refilled the water bowl. He considered getting himself some breakfast, but then decided against it. He was always too nervous to eat on race days. He'd probably hurl all over the racetrack before the race had even started if he had anything in his stomach. So Dean chose to make some coffee and gulp that back before he headed to the track. It was in the next city over, in New Hampshire, Connecticut. The train left a ten o'clock, so he'd have to leave pretty soon if he wanted to catch it. The race was at two, but Dean needed to be there early to prep his bike and scope out the track.

At the last second, Dean added some brandy to the coffee. Some liquid courage wouldn't hurt, right? He sat in the kitchen drinking and watching Duke eat when he heard a knocking come at the front door. _Rap Rap Rap._ He recognized that knock; it was Sam's.

"Come on in, Sammy!" Dean called loudly, rolling his eyes at his brother. Obviously the door was open. Obviously Dean would want him inside. Why didn't he just come in already? He heard the door creak open and light flooded the front hallway as Sam stepped in. Dean looked over the kitchen counter at his brother walking over to him. He had four or five textbooks stacked in his arms and Dean bit back a smile. Sammy was always studying for some big test or writing an essay or something. Studying to be a lawyer came with "perks" like that.

"You ready, man?" Sam asked, setting the books down on the counter top.

"Of course I'm ready!" Dean said loudly. "It's gonna be great. I can feel it, Sam. Something's going to go right for me today."

"Well,  I'm glad to see you're confident." Sam said with a lopsided smirk. He brushed his floppy brown hair off his forehead and grabbed Dean's coffee mug, taking a gulp before his brother could protest. Dean tried to grab it back, but Sam clung on tightly.

"I stayed up till three last night, writing a goddamn research paper on the history of the law system in America. You can spare me some caffeinne." Sam said cajolingly.

Dean nodded reluctantly, pushing the coffeemaker closer to his brother.

"There's more in there if you want it. I've gotta get going though, or I'll be late."

"I'll be there later to cheer you on. I might bring Jess too." Sam replied, keep his eyes fixated on the mug in front of him.

"Ah, you're bringing a date rather than some boring books? Things are getting pretty serious between you two, huh?" Dean said with a grin. Sam said nothing, but a blush crept up his cheeks, turning his normally tan skin pink. Dean laughed and Sam scowled, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Shut up- jerk." Sam mumbled. "She's really cool, alright?"

Dean chuckled again, grabbing his leather jacket and flinging it around his shoulders. He grabbed his wallet and put it in his jean's pocket.

"Try and keep my cat alive while I'm out, okay?"

"No promises."

 

 

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed vehemently, staring up hopelessly at the board at the train station. His train had been delayed by half an hour, which was totally not good. Half an hour less time to get ready. Half an hour more that his competition would have over him. Half an hour Dean couldn't afford to lose. He looked at the train ticket in his hand and then walked over to an attendant standing in the corner.

"Hey," he said, "Do you know why this train's late?"

"No idea sir, sorry." the attendant said with a shrug of his shoulders. Dean bit back another curse and the nodded stiffly.

"Alright, thanks." he muttered, trying his best to be civil. Dean had been thrown out of too many public places because of his attitude, and he didn't want a repeat performance. Dean stalked over to the uncomfortable-looking chairs in the middle of the station and flung himself down in one distemperedly. He crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head, feeling his good mood from earlier dissolve. This was freaking fantastic. Dean sat there in silence for ten minutes, tapping his feet against the groud in agitation. He couldn't sit still. Thoughts were whirling around and around in his head, his confidence in the race decreasing by the second.

Time was ticking away. His original train was meant to have left already. The station was filling up as people got off and on. People were milling around, waiting for family members or searching for whatever train they needed to get on. Everybody seemed to be busy with something; was nobody waiting for the same train he was? Dean felt somebody sit down in the chair whose back was opposite his. Normally, he'd turn around and strike up a conversation. Dean was a people person; he always had been and he figured he always would be. He loved hearing people's stories, getting to learn what made them tick. People and their nurmerous ways of existing fascinated him. But he couldn't find it in himself right then.

Distantly, Dean heard something clatter to the floor behind him and roll underneath his seat. Whoever was sitting behind him sighed heavily but made no move to retrieve whatever they'd dropped. Maybe Dean looked too intimidating at the current moment to even attempt speaking to. So he leaned down and reached underneath his seat, feeling around for whatever was underneath there. His fingers closed around something thin and he sat back up, looking at it.

It was a pen. Dean huffed out a sigh, wondering how awkward this exchange was going to be. Like " _hey pal, here's the writing utensil that you clearly didn't care about at all, but I've decided to return it to you anyway!"_ But he'd come this far, and a Winchester never admitted defeat, so Dean was going to go through with this. He turned around in his chair and tapped the shoulder of the person sitting slouched in the chair behind him. Slowly, the man turned and he looked at Dean.

The motorcyclist suddenly found it extremely difficult to breathe. Because this man sitting across from, this..this _angel_ was looking at him. His big blue eyes were examining Dean deeply, scrutinizing every part of his face. Dean felt like he was going to drown in that oceanic gaze.

"Uhh..." Dean said dumbly, blinking a few times. "I..uhhh. I-"

"That's my pen, I believe." the man said, and _shit_ , his voice was deep. "Thank you."

Dean numbly handed it to him, wracking his brains for something, anything, to say. His brain seemed to have stopped communicating with his mouth. He cast his eyes down and saw a notebook sitting on the guy's lap.

"Were you writing something?" he blurted out. The guy quickly closed the notebook, flipping the cover over so it blocked his words.

"Yes, I was. It's not very good though, trust me on that."

This half hour suddenly got a hell of a lot better.


End file.
